Page 22 of Our Ruined Beginnings

“Oh yeah. I’m in need of a distraction.”

“And a refreshed wardrobe. My stuff is doing nothing for you.”

She’d lent me a couple bits to get through the week, and I’d had some odd items in my duffle that escaped damage, but recently, I’d hardly been concerned with what I look like anyway.

“That’s for sure. But that’s what today is for, right? Getting me the cutest transitional wardrobe you ever did see.”

“Mission accepted,” Kinsley says with a serious nod, before peeling around to climb into the driver’s seat.

I settle in next to her as official passenger princess while she fiddles with the aux, and it’s not long before music fills the space. Both windows are down, and soon, we’re cruising along the road, leaving a little bit of my stress behind.

Chapter Ten

Harper

Themallisstartingto fill up with families and friends milling around, and I still find the constant murmur of background noise to be a little overwhelming. I guess two months of static silence will do that to you, but I feel the melancholy slip over me.

Before the summer, I’d have been the life of the party. You’d catch me in the middle of the crowd, breathing in the atmosphere and thriving amidst the noise and fun, surrounded by my favorite people. To think that a half-busy mall would leave my senses in overload is a sad realization.

But today isn’t for mulling things over.

Today is a fresh start—new clothes, and a new-and-improved “fuck the world” vibe. That’s my goal, and we only just got here. There’s no way I can lose sight of it so soon.

I pull in a deep breath and exhale slowly before plastering a smile on my face.Fake it’til you make it.

Kinsley slips the practically empty to-go cup from my hand and dumps it along with her own. “Breakfast first,” she declares, as she loops her arm through mine and steers me toward the food court.

My stomach rumbles in agreement, and we chatter between ourselves about where we want to go, eventually deciding on The Breakfast Club because she knows it’s my favorite. I wonder if she’s trying to shake me out of the weird funk I’m in or if she’s noticed how much weight I lost over the summer.

She doesn’t mention either, and I’m grateful. It’s easier to pretend neither one happened and accept the distraction of discussing what we’re going to order. We both get terrible food envy, so it’s easier to discuss the options, knowing we’ll both pick the same thing either way.

It’s not long before two huge breakfast sandwiches are dropped off at our table, filled with bacon, eggs, and cheese. My mouth waters at the sight.

The waiter comes back quickly to drop off two juices and two coffees before Kinsley and I dive into our breakfasts. It’s comfortable silence while we devour the sandwiches, and I find I get used to the muted noise from others—it becomes comforting rather than overwhelming.

By the time my belly is full and I’m wiping my mouth clean, I’ve relaxed, and my funky mood has settled into something more like contentment.

“Better?” Kinsley asks with a knowing look in her eye, and I nod back.

“Better. That was incredible.”

“Yeah. I feel like they’ve got better, actually. So, where do we want to hit first?” I pull my phone out and bring up my list, flipping it around to show her.

“This is everything I need. Maybe we try Typo first?” It’s closest to the elevators when we leave the food court, so it makes sense to me, but she’s shaking her head as she skims the list.

“Nah, let’s leave the boring stuff until last. We should start with Zara—they’ll have their new season out by now.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say with a smile.

We spend an hour browsing and trying clothes on in Zara, and I’m sweating by the end. Anyone who says shopping is not a sport is in denial. My legs haven’t had a workout like this in a long time, and my arms are laden with practically a whole new wardrobe, since the majority of mine was destroyed.

I would blame Kinsley, who keepsoohing andaahing at items that I “justhaveto have”before adding them to the top of my pile. Then again, I’m not resisting massively hard. There’s a reason this is our favorite store, and having the excuse of seasons to shop for makes me even more excited to pick new bits. Arizona doesn’t do winter, or fall, really, and we’ll be hitting those temps here soon, so it’s about time I grabbed some suitable stuff.

“Oh, this is cute!” Kinsley exclaims as she pulls off to the side, and I follow, barely able to see over the pile of clothing slung over my arm.

She’s standing in front of the wall of underwear, holding up a gorgeous, delicate lacy lingerie set with embroidered flowers on it. This one is a pale pink with roses, but they have different matching sets around it. I scan them all—the blue with the forget-me-nots, and the yellow with the daisies. My eyes snag on the green with lilies, and my heart lurches so hard in my chest I worry I might throw it up for a second.

“You okay?” Kinsley asks, putting the set back and laying a hand on mine on top of the clothes. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

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